


We Got Time, But That Ain't Much.

by ForReasonsUnknown (orphan_account)



Series: Of Spitfires & Love Songs. [7]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: (nothing explicit there though), Angst, M/M, Period Typical Homophobia, Pre-film, during WW2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 07:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12836661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ForReasonsUnknown
Summary: The sun sets, and Collins sighs. Their moment is coming to an end, he can hear the trudge of boots on mud and the shouts of colleagues.





	We Got Time, But That Ain't Much.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the Killers' song 'Runaways' (there will undoubtedly be another work based on this song, but based on a different theme within it) Please Enjoy!

_We got time,_

_But that ain't much,_

_We can't wait 'till tomorrow._

As a child, there'd been far too much time for Collins; life had seemed to stretch out in front of him like an endless spiral. Maybe it was boredom, there wasn't a lot to do in a tiny village in the highlands, especially not in the winter. Maybe it was seeing the tiredness in his grandfather's eyes, the shadows of memories that he would not speak of. Maybe it was glancing at the pictures of his parents, the images too fuzzy, and his memory too fractured to properly put together their faces.

He'd seem to have spent decades throwing the same stones into the same river from the same bridge. Running away from the older boys with their harsh words and even harsher punches in a seemingly never ending circle. Sitting in his room and watching the crack in the ceiling grow with each passing day.

Inevitably though, Collins had grown up, he'd joined the RAF and a war had begun. He spent his days chasing sleep he knew he'd never catch up with, and counting down the days he had left, resetting the clock every time they lost someone else. His grip on time was slipping, spiralling out of control and being consumed by the hellfire that was the war.

Time had seemed to slow to that same slog of his childhood the first time he met Farrier, and it stayed like that for a long time, their first, tentative interactions slow and cautious. Learning each other in a way that Collins had never experienced before, the calmness and tranquility Farrier had been able to instill a strong contrast to the chaos and terror of war.

Then, one night after a particularly bad flight, Farrier had kissed him, and he was sure that time had stopped all together. That they somehow existed somewhere time couldn't get to them, couldn't throw them into the fire.

 _God how he wished to be back in that place._  

But reality had hit him like a brick wall. Because as the war drew out longer and longer in front of them, and Collins lost more and more sleep, he realised that time was catching up with them. There was never time for them, it seemed. And most weeks the best they could manage was a five minute session behind the barracks after dark before the first rotations. But it was never enough.

He got to know Farrier in long, drawn out conversations that looked and sounded like nothing more than a casual discussion between friends.

He grew to love him through small, isolated moments that never lasted long enough; cut short by duty or danger.

It's excruciating, sometimes. Having the brunette so close but not being able to touch him, sharing a bunk with him every night but not even being able to talk to him endlessly in the darkness. It makes him want to scream. And it gets worse every time, every time Farrier drags him into a dank shed to fuck him on top of some folded tarp or a broken workbench, neither of them even properly undressed, forcing as much effort and emotion into the tiny amounts of time they are allotted.

But he'll never turn the brunette away. He'll never pretend to be busy when Farrier comes at him with that damn smile and a look in his eye that makes Collins' knees weak. Because he's not sure how long he can last without Farrier's hands on him, breath hot in his ear as he calls him all kinds of endearments that make his cheeks flush, whispering to him a forbidden love as he fucks him senseless.

He's not sure he could go out there every day to face his death if he didn't have the thought of Farrier's lazy post-orgasm smile ingrained into his mind.

And maybe, one day, they might have time. Collins tells him as much one evening as the sun is dying on the horizon. They're taking a risk, basking in the orange glow as they are, but it's worth it. The base is quiet today anyways - most of them grounded due to engineering troubles - so the chances of getting caught, or called for are low.

They're still not safe, and their time together is blatantly finite, but it's something.

Collins is tracing one of the tattoos on Farrier's chest with his fingers, silently revelling in the lazy smile this prompts from the brunette, his eyes falling closed and a low hum vibrating in his chest.  
"How long do we have?" He's not sure he means to say it, but say it he does. Farrier shifts gently beneath him, considering.

  
"Not long." The brunette replies gravely, and Collins wants desperately to steer the conversation away from this area, he wants to kiss Farrier and distract him, to drag this moment out for as long as he can.

But he can't.

And he knows that.

He knows himself far too well.

"There's never enough time," Collins says, voice blank of any emotion. But it's a tell that Farrier's learnt to pick up on; these words are coming from the very deepest, vulnerable part of Collins, so he turns his head to give him his full attention. "I want there to be, someday. There must be a place." He finishes, turning his head away and blinking against the final glares of the dying sun.

"When this is all over, we'll find a place where time cannot touch us." Farrier says plainly. And Collins hates it. Because is exactly the response he wants and needs, but not the one Farrier should give him. Farrier should be blunt, should say that there's no way this could ever continue back in normal society.

He should at least acknowledge that it's highly unlikely that they'll both make it out of this hell alive.

The sun sets, and Collins sighs. Their moment is coming to an end, he can hear the trudge of boots on mud and the shouts of colleagues. So he stands, taking time they don't have to fix his uniform, pushing the boundaries of what is safe by helping Farrier with his, hands moving at a leisurely, reluctant pace. They stand face to face for a moment, and Collins could scream with the unfairness of it all.

Instead, he curls his arms around Farrier's neck, waiting for the latter to snake his around his waist before kissing him for what is simultaneously a second and an eternity.


End file.
